


Give

by hdarchive



Series: What I Need [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: BadBoy!Blaine, M/M, christmas!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine gets Kurt's name in the Secret Santa draw and comes to realize two things: a) he doesn't hate Christmas as much as he says he does and b) he maybe kind of likes Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas time, or as I like to call it, 'cry-over-all-the-christmas-duets-klaine-didn't-sing' time. So shout out to Christmas for getting my brain back in the game!! (also check out this [playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/holdingdaylight/playlist/6mrgoPt9TKUOGUvkb8eGYk) to get you in the holiday spirit)

Glee club is almost always insufferable, but he’s gotten used to that. The constant fighting and crying and yelling and the not-so-constant singing has been enough to convince him to never talk back to Sue Sylvester ever again.

But this week is just unbearable. He’d rather live out his detention in Sue’s office, anything but this hell. It’s the week before winter break and for a club that doesn’t have a lot of money, they sure spend a lot on decorations. And the songs, _god_ , the songs. As if there isn’t enough Christmas music on the radio. If he hears _‘River’_ one more time he will literally drive his car straight into one.

It’s just stupid. That’s all he can come up with. The tree he watched them all decorate is just going to come down anyway, the lights will have to be unplugged and the snow on the ground will melt and soon this will all be over, so it’s just stupid how big a commotion everyone’s making over it. 

He watched the rest of the club sing _‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’_ from his seat in the corner, pretending that he didn’t want to join in or sing a single word, but he had to keep his foot from tapping and when Kurt gave him the smallest of smiles he almost immediately wanted to give one back. He didn’t. But he wanted to. So that’s something.

“Okay, Blaine. Pick a name.”

He looks up, blinks his eyes because he’s somewhere between asleep and awake, and stares at Mr. Schue, who’s standing in front of him and shuffling his hand through a hat.

“What for?” he asks, frowning even though he’s already got his hand in the hat, picking out a piece of paper.

Mr. Schue frowns back. “Secret Santa. We discussed it last week.”

He lets go of the paper, settling back in his seat and crossing his arms, turning his head the other way. “Nah, I don’t really do Christmas,” he says, annoyed. “And I’m not really part of this club anyways.”

“What? Of course you are!” Mr. Schue says in a tone that’s far too excited. “Just remember, the budget is twenty dollars, and we’re giving them out next Friday. It’s going to be great!” 

Before he can say anything, before he can refuse any further or knock the hat out of his hands, Mr. Schue reaches into the hat and drops a piece of paper in his lap before moving on.

He scrunches the paper up in his hand, but doesn’t throw it out. He thinks about it actually, for a good two or so minutes, and looks around the room at all the decorations hanging everywhere, the tree that’s lit up in the corner, and he hates himself for admitting it but this is the first year in a long time where it actually feels like Christmas, and maybe, well . . . maybe he’s really missed that.

He waits until Puck isn’t leaning over his shoulder to see who he got, waits until the rest of the club is occupied with something else before he unravels the ball of paper.

Then he wants to laugh, and he feels the muscles in his face twitch with the strongest urge to smile but he keeps it down and keeps it in and scrunches the paper back up, because suddenly it really does feel like a secret.

_Kurt E. Hummel._

He looks over to the front row, where Kurt is sitting, and he thinks of a million things but he can’t seem to think of any gift ideas. What do you even get somebody for Christmas when you don’t really know them but you really want to? A box of chocolate, flowers, a gift card . . . ?

Then, like Kurt somehow knows that Blaine is thinking of him and looking at him, he turns around, only for a half second, looking at Blaine and then promptly away, like he’s been caught. But that was more than enough time to see the smile on his face, and Blaine just knows he’s gonna have to try harder than that.

-

“Blaine!”

He cringes, shoulders rising, frozen to the spot in the middle of the hallway as he hears tiny clacking footsteps approach him, and waits for the hurricane that is Rachel and wonders how he’s gonna survive it this time.

He turns slowly, teeth gritting, because if he yells at her or tells her off she’ll be the first one to report it to Sue and his detention will be extended _again_ , and asks, “Yes, Rachel?”

“Glad I could catch you before class,” Rachel says, seemingly out of breath, and she’s holding a notepad and a pen with a grip so tight it looks painful. “I have a few simple questions for you, if you don’t mind answering.”

He lets his breath out, rolls his head back to the stare at the ceiling, already feeling a headache form. “Sure, Rachel, go for it.”

“What does the spirit of Christmas mean to you?”

That has him dropping his head, eyes wide and curious on Rachel. “What -”

“We’ll get back to that,” Rachel says, cutting him off. “Second question. What is your favourite holiday movie?”

He takes a careful step backwards, ready to start running. “What kind of questions are these?”

Rachel sighs, shoulders dropping and her glare icing over, and huffs out, “I’m obviously trying to get to know you better so I can find you the perfect gift.”

He feels his whole face twist up in confusion, mouth twitching to the side. 

“Isn’t the whole idea of Secret Santa that it’s supposed to be secret?”

Somehow Rachel’s glare turns harder, colder. “It is secret. Whoever said it wasn’t?”

“And aren’t you Jewish?”

“And I never pass up an opportunity for presents!” Rachel says with such conviction it scares him a little. “Now onto question three. Boxers or briefs?”

At this point all he can do is stare at her and let her tire herself out, because he’s afraid if he moves she’ll lunge at him or attack him. “Rachel, I don’t need -”

“Rachel,” somebody says, and Blaine’s never been so relieved yet so anxious to see anybody before. Kurt comes up to them, wrapping his hands around Rachel’s arm and tugging her away. “Leave the poor boy alone. He gets enough of you in glee club.”

“But -” Rachel protests, looking frantically between Kurt and Blaine. “He hasn’t answered my questions. Blaine, sweet or salty, cats or dogs, Justin Bieber or One -”

Kurt pulls her away and down the hall, looking over his shoulder and saying loudly overtop of her, “I apologize on her behalf!”

He’s left standing there in the middle of the hall, suddenly only aware of the piece of paper in his pocket and the burning question in his mind and a smile on his face that he knows he should tear off but he can’t.

And he wants to go find Rachel again and tell her what he really wants for Christmas.

-

Christmas time used to be his favourite. 

Back when his parents were together and Cooper actually remembered he existed and came back for the holidays. When he still believed in Santa (no matter how many times Cooper told him he didn’t exist) and when he’d sing nothing but carols from November until the end of December. It was his favourite time of year up until he got old enough for his parents to stop really caring, old enough for gift cards to the mall and not a single wrapped present under the tree.

So even though he’s racking his brain for ideas, growing more frustrated with each passing day, he can’t get himself to settle on anything generic or simple. Nothing about Kurt Hummel is generic or simple. And he can’t succumb to that, because it’s Christmas time and for once, he actually kinda cares.

But the thing is he’s never actually bought anybody a present before.

His mom just orders gifts for herself and says they’re from him and his brother, and his dad has never needed anything before. Plus he kind of gave up on making anything for them when he found his Christmas card in the trash six or so years ago.

Maybe he could make something for Kurt?

He vetoes that idea, embarrassed at the thought of it. Kurt would laugh, and then he’d probably throw it in the garbage, too.

So then what do you buy for a kid who seems to have everything? He’s never seen Kurt wear the same thing twice, so he can’t really get him a scarf or a hat or whatever it is he wears because he’s already got three million. 

He debates between two decisions for a while. It’s not like it really matters, it’s just a gift that Kurt will probably forget about by New Year’s. It could be any random gift, something stolen or something cheap and it wouldn’t really matter because it’s not like he cares about Kurt, or like Kurt cares about him. It’s just a stupid holiday.

But even when he thinks that, he can’t get himself to do it.

He goes with the other option, and decides to straight up ask Kurt what he wants. 

Which is a decision he immediately regrets as he approaches Kurt’s locker, stomach in knots and his goal forgotten, because suddenly he doesn’t know the English language.

He swallows, sticks his hands in the pockets of his jacket and lifts his chin up, refusing to be scared or awkward because that’s just not who he is and Kurt E. Hummel isn’t going to change that.

“Hey Kurt.”

Kurt looks away from his locker, turning his head in each direction before settling on Blaine, the frown he’s wearing quickly dissolving into a smile. “Blaine,” he says in greeting, closing his locker door. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He shrugs, smirking a little. “Do you have a minute?”

Kurt shakes his head, stepping away from the lockers and into the traffic of the halls, and it makes something sink in Blaine’s chest. “I had a minute a minute ago, but now I’m going to be late for class.”

He doesn’t mean to do it, it just comes out, all his nerves short-circuiting and muscles working on their own. He reaches out and grabs Kurt’s elbow, careful and hesitant before he’s quickly pulling back, but it’s enough to get Kurt to stop, turning around with that same frown back on his face.

“It’s just a quick question,” he says, voice coming out more calm and relaxed than he actually feels. 

Kurt sighs, shoulders deflating and eyes rolling. “How quick?”

He shrugs again, hands in tight fists where they’re now shoved back in his jacket, and asks simply, “What do you want for Christmas?”

Kurt smiles, a little odd at the sides, like he’s trying not to, and he looks away from Blaine and down the hall. “Did Mercedes put you up to this?” he asks as he starts to walk again, Blaine quickly following. “Because I’ve already told her a dozen times, a signed Taylor Lautner poster is more than enough.”

Blaine’s heart begins to beat faster as they approach the classroom, the urge to reach out and hold Kurt’s arm returning, and he sighs heavily, says impatiently, “Just answer the question, Kurt.”

Kurt does stop then, turning around to face Blaine but he doesn’t look at him, still smiling like he shouldn’t be.

“I honestly don’t know,” he says, and he sounds a little breathless, a little quiet, and then he finally looks up at him. “I want a lot of things I guess.”

The warning bell rings, and in the span of two seconds Kurt turns and goes into the classroom, leaving Blaine with his stupid heart still racing and his mind even more muddled.

-

Okay, so Kurt was absolutely no help in picking out his own gift. Blaine’s desperate but there’s no way he’s bidding on eBay for anything Taylor Lautner related.

He’s close to just giving up and driving to the nearest drug store and buying the first box of chocolates he sees. Because honestly, what’s the point? It’s not important anymore. It used to be something, it used to be his favourite, it used to mean _everything_ because it’s what used to make him the happiest.

It doesn’t get to mean anything anymore, no matter how much he wants it to, because he doesn’t know how. 

Still, something in him doesn’t want to give up, not yet.

With all that in mind, he goes to glee club a bit dejected, not wanting to be here more so than usual. The first thing he sees are presents under the tree, everyone talking and laughing together, and he knows he feels envy because somehow, it seems like it all still matters to the rest of them. It’s still - everything.

Finn comes up to him between songs, shoulders hunched up by his ears, looking anywhere but Blaine’s face.

“Hey dude,” he says, a bit shyly.

Finn’s done a pretty good job about not talking to him inside the walls of this room, so he’s not sure why he is now, but he’s able to ignore the annoyance and narrow his eyes up at him, asking boredly, “What do you want?”

Finn indicates over his shoulder at Rachel, who’s sitting in the front row very obviously trying to make it look like she’s not eavesdropping. “I’m just letting you know I wouldn’t be doing this if she weren’t making me . . . she uh, she wants to know your shoe size.”

Blaine snorts, brow furrowing and his smile confused, sitting up straighter in his seat and crossing his arms. 

“I’m sorry, my what?” he asks, bewildered and amused at the same time.

Finn’s turned bright red. “Um, your shoe -”

“I heard what you said.” He smirks because he kind of pities him, and he doesn’t really want Rachel asking him that question in a more public space, so he says, “Uh . . ten and a half I think.”

Finn lets his breath out so fast Blaine almost feels it, face still burning red as he quickly turns away, but Blaine stops him.

“Hey, wait.”

When Finn turns around he looks close to passing out, and Blaine leans a bit further in, voice quietening to an almost-whisper. 

“You’re Kurt’s brother, right? So you must know him really well.”

Finn’s horrified features scrunch up confused, eyebrows pulling too close together. “I guess, yeah.”

He bites his lip and thinks, really thinks, because if anyone else hears or if he lets his voice slip even a little then Finn will get the wrong idea . . . 

Slowly breathing out, in, he asks quietly, not a trace of roughness left in his voice, “What does a guy like him want for Christmas?”

Finn smiles a knowing smile, like even though Blaine hasn’t directly said anything he’s onto him. “Did you get him for Secret Santa?”

Blaine sighs harshly, eyes rolling. “What do you think?”

Shrugging, Finn says simply, “Just get him a gift card or something. He’s picky about like, everything.”

Blaine scoffs, “‘Cause that’s lame.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t. Just tell me what he wants.”

“Well,” Finn sighs, casting a glance towards Kurt who’s on the other side of the room, and then back at Blaine. “I dunno. I guess he likes sentimental things. He’s already watched that ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ movie like a million times because it was his mom’s favourite.”

Blaine tilts his head, drawing his eyes back to Finn because he wasn’t even aware he was looking at Kurt. “His mom?”

“Yeah, she died when he was little.”

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, and he can’t stop himself from frowning. “Oh.”

It takes him a few seconds to realize that Finn is still there, staring at him.  “. . . are you sure you don’t care, dude?”

“I don’t,” he snaps, shrugging it off and leaning back in his chair. “Now go tell your creepy little girlfriend that she’s not buying me shoes.”

-

If there’s anything worse than glee club during Christmas time, it’s the mall.

It’s crowded, it’s stuffy, people are absolute idiots and the sales associates are even worse. They all watch him like a hawk or try and sell him stuff he really doesn’t need, but he guesses they’re just doing their jobs, so he can’t really blame them. 

He passes the line to see Santa and smiles, and he can’t remember the last time he got his picture taken with him but he does remember how happy it made him. 

After seeing that, the mall becomes a little more bearable, and he finds himself humming along to the staticky music that plays overhead. 

He hates that he can’t really remember anything good about the past few Christmases, he hates that all he remembers is regret. Maybe he should have gone to his grandparent’s house for dinner that one year, and maybe he should have tried calling Cooper last Christmas. 

Maybe that’s why he can’t settle for the easiest thing to get Kurt. He doesn’t want anymore regrets.

He still can’t find anything for him though, checking every shop he passes. He sees a purse his mom might like, and a mug that says ‘World’s Ugliest Brother’ that he wants to get for Cooper, but nothing for Kurt.

He stops by a gift store, browses their selection of cards and their selection of expensive figurines behind glass cases, hands jammed in his pockets and head tipped low. He knows the sales associate is watching him carefully, and he supposes he does look kind of suspicious, so when she asks, “Can I help you find anything?” he decides to not be a jerk in return.

“Yeah actually. I’m looking for a gift,” he says slowly, eyes still on the figurines. “For my friend.”

She’s an older lady, glare fixed permanently behind her glasses, eyes following everywhere his hand moves. “Oh, what does she like?”

“He,” Blaine corrects. “And I have no fucking clue.”

He expects her to scold him, or kick him out, but she only smiles. “Well, tell me about him.”

He shrugs, walks by a row of candles and picks one up. “I don’t really know the guy. He doesn’t like talking to me as much as I like talking to him. I just got his stupid name in the stupid Secret Santa draw,” he mumbles, placing the candle back down to pick up another, the sales associate lady never trailing far behind him. “And I don’t wanna look like a douchebag who settles for the easiest thing. He’s not the kind of guy you give chocolates to.”

The lady smiles, and he’s not sure if it’s genuine or from panic because he’s rearranging the entire shelf of candles. 

“Depends on the chocolate,” she says, taking the candle from his hands and setting it down. “Ferrero Rocher is nice.”

Fight leaving him, shoulders dropping, he sighs, “This holiday is so stupid . . .” But then something catches his eye, sitting on the shelf by the cash register, and he points to it, smile growing by the second. “Hey wait, how much for that guy?”

The sales associate turns around to see what he’s pointing at, turns back to him and says, “Twenty-seven ninety-five, plus tax.”

Blaine grins.

“Sweet, I’ll take it. Do you have a box?”

-

The second struggle he comes across is wrapping it. It’s a straightforward process but he can’t get the paper to fold right or the tape to stick and he contemplates just shoving it in a plastic bag and giving that to Kurt, but he persists and after an hour or so, he finally gets it, adding a gold bow to the corner of the box and writing ‘To Kurt’ on the tag.

The third struggle stretches out all night long. He sits on his bed and stares at the gift and he plays a thousand different scenarios in his head. God, he’s such a sap, and if Kurt ever figures out it was him he’d just die. Who gives a gift like this? What’s even the point? He doesn’t even like Kurt.

But he thinks about it some more, gets over his embarrassment, and thinks about how happy it could make Kurt, and in turn that makes him feel . . .

. . . oddly happy, too.

And he doesn’t even get anything back from this. It’s just - the thought of doing this, for somebody else, for making somebody else happy -

He knows this feeling. It’s the feeling you get when you’re the reason somebody else smiles. 

It’s the feeling he got when Cooper helped him put the star on top of the tree all those years ago, or when he'd come in from playing outside in the snow and his mom would make him hot chocolate. And maybe all that’s over, maybe it’ll never happen again, maybe Christmas will never be that but Christmas has always been this, this feeling, his favourite feeling. And he hasn’t felt it in a very long time.

Maybe Christmas really isn’t that stupid afterall.

-

It snows on his way to school, and he doesn’t cringe as much when _‘River’_ comes on the radio. 

He quickly shoves his gift under the tree, far behind the others, and when Mr. Schue is done giving a speech on the importance of cherishing family and the true spirit of giving, he hands out the presents.

He waits to open his. One, because it’s from Rachel and he’s a little afraid, and two, because he kind of likes watching the faces of everyone around him, seeing what gifts they got. 

And three, because he wants to watch Kurt open his. 

Kurt of course, instantly assumes it’s Mercedes, and then Finn, and then Tina, but they all shake their heads and say ‘it wasn’t me!’. Kurt never even looks his way, which Blaine is both grateful for and a bit bummed out about.

But still, it was worth it. 

The look on his face said everything. The look on his face is what Christmas is all about, what Christmas used to make Blaine feel. It’s not pointless, not a second of it, not when it can make somebody else that happy, because in turn it kinda makes you happy, and so it’s all worth it.

Even if Kurt never knows it was him.

-

The school bell rings, winter break officially starting. He has to go get Rachel’s gift from where it’s shoved in his locker, even though he’s not really sure what he’s going to do with it. 

The hallway is beginning to clear, everyone in a rush to get out and play in the snow or go home, so it’s a bit of a surprise when he sees somebody standing by his locker, and even more of a surprise when he realizes it’s Kurt.

He smiles, but forces it down, forces his heart calm, and strolls closer. 

“What’s up, Kurt?” he asks casually, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Kurt’s leaning against the locker doors, holding the stuffed Rudolph toy close to his chest, and when he meets Blaine’s eyes he smiles. 

“I know it was you,” Kurt says, accusingly yet somehow quietly, like it’s still a secret, giving the Rudolph a squeeze. “I had to interrogate the entire student body first, but I know it was you.”

Blaine’s smirk forms instantly, but he still shrugs, stepping past Kurt to get to his locker. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kurt ignores him, turning towards him and holding the toy closer to his face, its plastic nose lighting up when Kurt pushes on the ear. “What I can’t figure out is how you knew. My guesses are either intense stalking or just pure luck.”

“Still not following,” Blaine sings, trying his best to sound annoyed, to not meet Kurt’s eyes. “It’s a stupid reindeer that lights up, Kurt. Nothing special about it.”

“He was her favourite,” Kurt says, and the sad tone of his voice has Blaine turning his head to look, but Kurt is still nothing but smiles. “Thank you.”

And Kurt’s holding it like it’s the most important thing in the world, smiling like Blaine gave him gold, and Blaine can’t find it in himself to pretend anymore, so he smiles back.

“You’re welcome.”

Kurt looks up from the Rudolph toy and somehow smiles wider, asking, “So what did Rachel get you?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Monogrammed boxers. Just what I’ve always wanted.”

They both laugh, and it scares Blaine because he can’t remember the last time he’s ever laughed along _with_ somebody and not at them. 

But then Kurt stands up and away from the lockers, shouldering his bag and pulling Rudolph closer to himself, and suddenly Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to go.

“Well, thank you again,” Kurt says, a little awkwardly, and then he’s hugging him.

And Blaine’s too stunned and strangely overwhelmed to actually hug back, mind struggling against his will to memorize how Kurt feels this close, and he’s finally able to get in a pat to Kurt’s back before he’s pulling away.

“Merry Christmas, Blaine.”

He’s left tingling everywhere Kurt just touched him, still stunned, and Kurt walks away before he can say anything.

“H-hey, Kurt?” he calls out, trying to remember how to speak, trying to remember what words even are.

To his relief and then confusion, Kurt turns around, and looks red in the face and just as stunned as Blaine feels. “Yes?”

He can’t remember the last time he said this either, and he can’t remember the last time he meant it. 

“Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have some other ideas for badboy!blaine stored away, so hopefully I can turn this into its own verse!! Thank you for being patient with me ♥


End file.
